


Beauty's Warrior

by INeedMoreHadesBeforeISwoon



Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Plug, Aphrodite Is Pent-up But Gets Her Rocks Off, Ares Needs To Bottom More Often, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, F/M, Femdom, Fertility Deity, Getting Away For A Week Because Your Eldest Son Is Embarrassed By Your Sex Life, I'm Having Way Too Much Fun With These Chaos Goblins, I'm Not Ashamed, Let Weirdos Be Weird, May Not Be Your Kink But No Kink-Shaming In This Ship, Pegging, Pony Play, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:02:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25683229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INeedMoreHadesBeforeISwoon/pseuds/INeedMoreHadesBeforeISwoon
Summary: In pure honor of the "debauchery" that was Ares and Aphrodite having some pony-play time in Episode 116 (Season 2 premiere), Swoonie presents:Bottom Ares gets his pony on for his Mistress....
Relationships: Aphrodite/Ares (Lore Olympus)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	Beauty's Warrior

**Author's Note:**

> .... This is the first Are-Dite pony-play fic thus far, but I'm sure it won't remain the only one for long....
> 
> ALSO, WHY THE HELL IS THIS THE FIRST ARE-DITE FIC I'M WRITING?! BAD SWOONIE, BUT ALSO, GOOD SWOONIE!!!!
> 
> Ahem - obviously, this one-shot requires a few warnings - also, please check taggies....
> 
> Dom/sub dynamics, including formal scene-play  
> Pony-play fetish, including pony-space  
> Sub-space  
> Strange-form Intimacy - in the vein of fertility deity power release/climaxes  
> Biting, and a little ichor-shed from that and some sharp fingernails  
> Spanking and other mild forms of toy-utilized impact play  
> Anal plug usage  
> .... and pegging....
> 
> Yep.... Time for Ares to bottom all the way....
> 
> Now, I want to preface this by saying that I did some research on some aspects of pony-play as a kinkdom and lifestyle. I recommend the following video, if you're interested - it's pretty much safe for work, there's no smut aspects, it's just a look into the world of pony-play as an actual "club" type thing....
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PFEvlc9QdQ8
> 
> Additionally, I own a horse. I've trained him myself. A lot of the ways Dite handles Ares in this fic are based on actual methodologies I and other "natural-method" trainers use. (more details in end notes, if you're interested.)
> 
> But basically, we all just needed some tenderotica pony-play after last night. 
> 
> You're welcome, and happy thirsting!
> 
> (Many thanks to my beta-feeshy, rissaleigh49, for putting up with my damn thirsty Muses and their late-night word-rush.)

He kept his wrists limp, letting the weight of the thick fiberglass shells hang heavy in front of his chest. He ran his tongue under the bar pressing his lips open, slathering the rubber with glistening spittle. He shifted his weight to his left foot, tilting his right onto the tip of the hollow hoof-shaped boot. That motion ricocheted through his body, causing a slight shudder to spasm in his core, around the hefty bulb lodged inside his ass. The long, silky strands of his tail shivered over the back of his thighs and down his calves, the titillating sensation made all the more intense when  _ she _ entered the room and saw his hips swaying gently to prolong the dancing contact. 

"Now, now, don't go getting spooky on me, Warrior. We've barely begun. Walk up."

He tossed his head slightly, the bar in his mouth jingling at the corners of his lips. He huffed, deep in his chest, and the sound fluttered into the air around his bit. She smiled with her eyes, her lavender features still stern as he strutted forward, moving into the open middle of this large room. His hooves  _ tocked  _ against the tiles, hollow and strong.

"Good, Warrior. Ho, now." He stopped, tossing his head again, the rings of his bit clashing again with a musical tinkle.

She pulled the leather straps from a back pocket of her skin tight riding breeches, and her voice was a sultry, seductive purr as she rolled her hand on an elegantly slender wrist, beckoning him, coaxing him.

"Head down, Warrior, that's my good boy…."

He rumbled a chuffing purr through his throat, rocking his head from side to side in a supple sway of submission as he did as commanded. The latches of her reins clacked into place around the rings on his bit, on both sides of his mouth, and the newly added weight pressed the rubber coated bar down on his tongue. She stroked a hand along his jaw and down his neck as he straightened again.

"Good boy, Warrior. Walk up, walk up."

He strutted forward again, making sure his head dipped with every step, feeling the tug and jostle of the reins connecting him to her. Her fingers adjusted on the straps, and he felt the soft pulses of those motions vibrating on his tongue as she took up fresh grip on the leather. She moved along beside him on his left, just a step ahead of him, and as she began to turn to the left, he rotated with her, a satellite around her star. He breathed deeply through his nose, every other breath or so blasting from his mouth, droplets and strands of hot drool flying from the bit half-gagging him.

She sped up their procession, and he shifted his motions from a powerful stride to a dancing trot to match her airy jog. His hooves patted rhythmically on the tiles, a drumbeat that began to keep time for his heart, and his forelock began draping over his right eye.

The mirrors on the walls caught his attention then: or, more specifically, the images of himself and his Mistress that the shining glass surfaces reflected.

His bare chest glistened with the perspiration this high-stepping workout was beginning to coax from his flesh, as did his muscular thighs. As they turned a little more tightly toward the middle of the room, he counterbalanced with his hips, and the sight of his flaxen tail shimmying behind his taut ass forced his guts to clench. His cock, bound behind the supple leather of his cup, throbbed, but the dark patch of cloth on his golden skin only added to the imagery. 

Chaos, he was as beautiful as she always said he was….

He tossed his head back, eyes closed and teeth tight on the bit, a surge of pride breaking his prancing step. He had to give a grating indignant squeal as his Mistress planted her feet and squared up to him, hands vicious-tight on the reins. The bit pinched the left side of his lips, and he spun into the pressure, shaking his head more desperately to ease the flashing pain. His eyes met hers, and the blank sternness of her face sapped his rebellion of fiery fuel. He stood, still and quiet but for the anxious tapping of his left hoof, as she held out one hand, palm up, just in front of her jacket-wrapped midriff. 

“To me, Warrior.”

He approached, lowering his body into a fully submissive posture - head down, shoulders loose, bent at the waist. He didn’t stop until his knees were on the floor before her riding boots and his forehead brushed her tilted fingertips. 

“Good, Warrior. You’re a little excitable today, aren’t you? Perhaps I should give you an outlet to burn off some of that steam…?”

He rumbled a purr of agreement, his jaw loosening around the stretch of the bit now that he was focused once more on his Mistress’ quiet and steady voice. She clicked her tongue once, brushing his forelock back over his forehead, and then she kissed the air twice. He stood as she backed away, giving him the space he needed to find his feet again. 

“Good boy.” He wasn’t sure when she’d managed to get the lunge whip, or where she’d hidden it in that skintight riding habit, but he snorted with building excitement as she flicked it toward his ass, the reins held carefully between the fingers of her left hand, a practiced and easy gesture. “Rack it up, Warrior, let’s go, since you’re so eager to run!” She snapped the whip against the floor behind his heels, and he began loping in a wide circle around her, bound by her slender fingers on the reins and the strength of her dominance to this perfectly curved orbit. 

She his sun, and he a racing moon: he always came back to circle her, no matter how many times some pelting asteroid or errant comet sent him hurtling off into the darkness of space.

The frayed flail on the end of the whip brushed the left side of his ass, the lightest feather of a stinging touch, and he  _ kicked _ , floating through the air a moment to be sure she witnessed his antics. The whip snapped against the floor again, and her voice cracked just as sharply as the braided leather: “Get it in gear, Warrior!”

He snorted again, spit flying, and he settled into the steady rhythm of a rocking canter once again. A few moments later, two gentle tugs on the reins signaled him that she was preparing another shift. His eyes rolled left, focusing immediately on her as his head dipped in deference as his hooves continued pounding against the tiles. 

She propped the whip against her hip and transferred the reins to her right hand; reaching across her body, she grabbed the whip in her now free left hand, and their eyes held as she waited to make sure he wouldn’t act before she gave her command. 

The whip lifted, the flail on the end barely visible as it floated through the air before his face, and he slowed, turning in toward his star and then away, facing entirely the opposite direction now as the whip cracked against the tiles behind his hooves. He rocked back into motion, no hitch or stutter in his fluid stride, and he could hear the smile in her mouth as she kissed the air again to urge him on.

A few more circuits around his center, and there were two more soft pulses from her fingers, along the leather reins and into his mind through the sensitive muscles of his mouth. His eyes found her, and the whip clattered to the floor. Her voice was dark, soothing as a summer night wind: “Ho, now, Warrior. To me, now.”

He turned, neck arched and steps clean-cut and elegant, approaching his Mistress and knowing she was pleased. Her eyes were soft, her shoulders rounded, her hips comfortably-set and knees loosely bent: how could he not know her mind as well as she knew his own…?

“Good, Warrior. Good boy.” She kissed the air and turned away. He followed, behind and to her right, a submissive position, stallion trailing alpha mare. She led him to the mounting block, and his cock  _ ached _ in heavy pulses with each beat of his heart. 

“Park out, Warrior.” She tied the reins with loose slipknots to the ring mounted on the top of the block as he knelt on the lower step of the heavy wooden structure. His hands found their places on the upper platform, and she caressed his jaw, his forehead, even the ears mounted high on his bridle before she stepped away. He sensed more than saw her walking around the block, inspecting his positioning. She stroked a hand down the bony lines of his ribs, over the softness of the heaving muscles along his abdomen, and then onto the labor-trembling swell of his right ass-cheek. “Good boy, well done. I’d say you’ve earned a grooming; does that sound good?”

He whinnied his happiness at that simple suggestion, and she chuckled, the fluttering noise like birdsong to his heart. He shuddered when her teasing hand wrapped around the thick bundle of hair affixed to the plug in his ass, when she pulled the long strands through her fingers and soft vibrations echoed up into his body. 

He knew she was going to brush his tail, and he  _ groaned _ , his pony-sona slipping slightly as his more-desperate lust-filled mind resurfaced momentarily….

“Now, now, boy; don’t go getting all confused about yourself, Warrior.” The delicious friction disappeared, and (as best he could while kneeling on all fours on a stepped wooden platform) he stamped his left hoof against the tiles. Long fingers and a flat palm cracked immediately over his ass-cheek, and he snorted again, drooling around his bit and shaking his head as the sting faded. “You kick me, and we’re going to have one hell of a brawl on our hands, mister. I’ll run you so hard you’ll wear out those brand new horseshoes. You hear me…?”

Another rumbling snort, a head-sway of obedience, and Warrior was rewarded with gentle caresses over his stinging skin once more.

Closely followed by the gentle tugging and scraping slide of the brush through the long locks of his tail.

Warrior began purring nearly constantly, humming and snuffling around his bit as the vibrations teased their way along his tail, into the plug, and all through his ass. The bulb of the plug was just wide enough to  _ stretch _ , but not quite long enough to give him pressure on his prostate, no matter how he clenched or twisted. 

Not that he was twisting now: Mistress would spank him for that again….

Although….

“Good boy, Warrior. Thank you for being so steady for me. You’re doing so well, and I’m nearly done back here. Would you like one last treat after I finish with your tail?” He gave a hearty snort at that, a growling chuff rumbling through his chest as his Mistress chuckled. “I thought you might…. Take a breather and let me get ready.”

The grooming on his tail stopped, and Warrior’s head drifted forward, his shoulders clenching spastically as anticipatory jolts rocked through his body. 

_ I want my treat…. _

_ I need my treat…. _

He needed this from her. Only from her. 

Always from her….

Only she understood; only she gave him what he needed when everything weighed too heavy on his soul….

Only she was strong enough, strong enough to hold him when he should have been torn apart.

His sun, his gravity, his star: she always held him….

Rustling sounds from behind him, and then soft cotton draped across his back. Warm hands trailing down his spine, wrapping gently around the base of his tail and  _ pulling _ , slowly, fighting the tension that was slowly melting from his muscles as fingers played his body like a lyre, dancing over his skin, stroking through to what felt like his very soul.

A slick stiffness, prodding at his hip, and he moaned again, unable to help it, as the plug was pulled free of the tightness of his body. 

“Good boy, Warrior. Steady now…. Time for a ride….”

She moved between his knees, and that slick stiffness took the place of the plug he’d worn for her for hours. Her strap-on was veined, ridged, a delectable length  _ covered _ with textures that tore pleasure from his body at her every motion. A spreading warmth flooded his body, rippling out in heartbeat waves as inch after inch pressed into his body, filling him like nothing else in his life but his love for this goddess who used him and treated him so well.

And as she moaned quietly, he was reminded that this was a “strapless” strap-on - secured only by the hooked portion inside her own body: as she rode him to ecstasy, she would take her own pleasure from her use of his flesh.

She leaned over him as she finally reached the hilt, wrapping her arms around his chest and pulling her breasts close to his back. The fabric between them was nothing but a tease, but he loved her for that, too: she knew all his buttons, and she’d press every one of them in the next few days.

They hadn’t rented this entire estate for a week for nothing, after all….

Eros had said they should be more discreet….

“Are you happy with your treat, Warrior…?”

“Mmmmhmmmm….”

“Oh, well, there you are, lover. Hang on….” Her weight settled onto him more fully as she raised her hands and began to work open the buckles around the back of his head. She pulled the bridle free of his head, and he worked his jaw slightly to ease the stretch from his joints. “There now…. So, how are you feeling…?”

“‘Dite, if you’ve ever loved me, fuck me, woman….”

“You got it, stud….”

And she did: rolling her body against him, humping him hard and fast, straightening to stand tall behind him and slamming her hips forward over and over again. She fucked him like a wild creature, like the pure sexual being she was at heart, and he let her, took what she gave, and begged his Mistress for more.

He hovered somewhere in a nothing-space where the only aspects of his existence were pummeling rubber cock and sweat-slick thighs, pointed nails and hot-heaving breaths. For a time that wasn’t time, he lost himself in his lover’s careful passion, waiting for the moment he knew would find them soon, soon,  _ now _ ….

She curled tight over his back again, ripping the fabric off of his skin and clutching him close. He arched into her embrace, trembling as her climax began to wrack her frame with spastic jerks and taut-limbed aborted thrashings. Her teeth latched into a muscle behind his right shoulder and he hissed, but just for a breath.

“‘Dite, let go….”

Her power, so carefully bound at his own mother’s command, rippled out of her body in what felt like shimmering waves of boiling ice, sparkles of invisible stardust that lit up his mind as she gave in to her needs. She clung to him, nails and teeth marking him in ichor as she found release after the long weeks of desperation and desire. Her power swept him up, pure essence of lust and passion, and he felt himself coming too, still bound within his leather cup, cock twitching and jerking as he lost control. 

He smiled, panting through aftershocks, as he thought that they would have an entire week to  _ let go _ as much as they wanted, as much as they needed….

Her teeth pulled free of his shoulder, her cheek sweaty on his ichor-sticky skin as she panted in the haze. “Fuck, Ares….”

“Mmmmhmmmmmm….” She chuckled, faintly patting his elbow with a trembling hand before she began shoving her body off his back, trusting him to remain steady so she could find her balance and her feet again.

Her hands were hot on his ass as she spread his cheeks apart, and he shivered as she sighed in delight as she watched her strap-on slipping free of his spasming hole. He lurched backward, craving the thickness and fullness, but she was such a tease, his Mistress: she swatted him lightly as she stepped away, and he weakly turned himself around to sit on the lower step of the mounting block. 

“Just relax for a minute, lover. Let me get this thing outta me, and then we’ll go get in the bed. I’m thinking a nice cuddle, and then a hot bath. What do you think…?”

He whinnied quietly, tossing his head and winking at her as she stood splay-legged a few feet away, hand already reaching toward her crotch to pull the toy from her body. She rolled her eyes at him as he flattened a hand over his lower abdomen, and his own eyes drifted closed as he imagined falling asleep in his lover’s arms….

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, deep feels about these two soul-mate chaos-babes aside....
> 
> "Walk up," "rack it up," and "park out" are actual phrases I use with my horse. 
> 
> The way Warrior "tosses" his head, as differentiated from "shaking" or "swaying" his head, is another aspect of actual horse behavior that I wanted to be sure to incorporate. Tossing the head is defiant, stressed, where shaking or swaying is relaxed, submissive. 
> 
> Also, how Ares follows Dite on her right side and behind - another actual horse behavior note. And yes, horse herds are matriarchal-led: there are dominant mares who control the primary stallion and all underling mares, and Boss Bitch will even kick Stud's ass if he attempts to mount a mare without Boss Bitch's approval. You can always tell horse pecking order by which horse is in the lead on the left - and that's also why most handlers choose to lead, mount, and control their horse from the left - it establishes us, the human, in the dominant position. 
> 
> A lot of the vocalizations I have Warrior doing are also described as best I could to mimic genuine horse behavior - quiet "purrs" and "chuffs" are contented, submissive sounds, where snorts and louder sounds are obviously of a more excited caliber, whether that be from stress or fear or pain. 
> 
> Finally, the "to me" command - that's one that is sometimes called a "join-up" - it's a way of redirecting the horse's behavior and controlling the horse by forcing a refocus back to the handler. Horses have big imaginations, all things considered, and they function best when they always have something to do for their handler. A join-up is a fall-back AND control mechanism - you can always use the join-up in an emergency or other stressful situation, it's simple for the horse to learn early on in training, and they'll never forget it....
> 
> Finally - if you watched the video I linked in front notes, you'll hear a few of those Ponies talking about Pony-space. Pony-play is very unique, psychologically speaking, because the Ponies can sometimes enter a modified version of sub-space, layered with "feral" tones, that essentially forces a soft-altered mental state. They "think" like a pony, they "act" like a pony, and they essentially "become" a pony for the duration of pony-playtime. 
> 
> Ares got there, but he also came back out of it a little earlier than Dite expected. 
> 
> I don't know if I'll ever come back to this, but I think Ares and Dite are switches in my headspace. Ares knew Dite needed her release, so pony-space had to go so he could be what she needed in a few minutes....
> 
> Anyhoo - enough rambling. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, and have a grand night, little ones!
> 
> Much love from Swoonie and the weird-ass kinksters in her headspace!  
> \- 2 August 2020 (midnight, so.... 3 August 2020?)


End file.
